Ghosts
by AResidentGhost
Summary: A child, born in the midst of madness, and looking for all appearances to be dead, will struggle his whole life for something better, something he thinks he can never have: Love. E/OW, Modern Day. Some sexuality involved.
1. Chapter 1

The young teen had been rich and carefree, until it happened. Her popular, athletic boyfriend of several months had taken her out on a supposedly simple date that night as usual for the beginning of the weekend. Everything was going fine until he became a little too rough and demanding of her. He desperately wanted her tonight—all of her—and he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what happened. In the balcony of the double feature movie theater, it was a break between two romantic comedies and he was looking to score with her again. They had been going out together for a while now, and time and made it well past home plate, so to speak. The All-American High School jock started to fondle her breasts and soon her genitals. However, she remained cold to him, so he became more forceful. As he dragged her into a more acceptable position, he peeled off her clothing and undergarments. She reluctantly allowed him to continue. She knew where he was going, and certainly, she wanted to go there, but neither had remembered to bring any protection. So the teen started to fight back. But it was useless as he forcefully penetrated her young sexuality. Though she didn't want to, she found herself inexplicably enjoying herself as he built up momentum and came inside her. After each had finished getting redressed, she wanted him to reaffirm his love for her, as he usually did after a bout of passion. He, however, had other ideas.

When she asked if he still loved her, he replied, "I'm sorry baby. I hate to tell you this, but I think it's time we started seeing other people."

"Is that all I was ever good for—a quick fuck?" She screamed and he laughed. Sobbing and angry over their abrupt break-up, she fled the theater and ran all the way home. She did not know then that she had become pregnant by this act.

Eventually, she made her way home, appearing disheveled and untidy. She sank into a deep depression and tried to commit suicide twice by an overdose of painkillers. The first time she threw most of the over-the-counter medicine up after ingesting them. The second time, however, she nearly accomplished her "appointed" task of suicide by overdose. She would have died if her caring mother had not entered her bedroom, worried about her daughter, found her laying in bed and unconscious, and had the wherewithal to dial 911. Thanks to the intervention of the hospital staff her life—along with her unborn child's life—was saved. It was at this time that the emotionally withdrawn teen was found to be pregnant. Seeing as this was not the first time she had attempted to commit suicide, although she tried to hide her first attempt, her parents and the doctors committed her to the psychiatric ward for physical and emotional care and treatment. As per practice, she was also put on suicide watch.

As the months passed, it was becoming clearer that she was with child. She was showing, and her depression had not lifted an ounce. Psychiatrists tried to get her to talk about what happened to her usual, happy-go-lucky self and who got her in this situation, but she refused to speak a word. As her due date approached, she started having violent nightmares. She went mad, so to speak. For her safety, as well as the other patients and stuff, she was physically restrained for much of the time. But sometimes that did not even help, so she was sedated for long periods despite her delicate condition.

A couple of weeks before her baby was to be delivered, she came down with a slight fever. She had an infection, but where? The doctors could not figure it out, so they agreed to give her the usual run of antibiotics. Her fever cleared and her body was ready to deliver the child.

Marie was young and single, and she had no ties to anyone until that miraculous night. She was preparing dinner for herself—a lowly bowl of soup—when her doorbell started ringing insistently. So she answered the door, but found no one there. Looking down, she was surprised to see a bundle of cloth with a note pinned on the blanket inside a small basket. Curiosity took the wheel as she brought the gift inside. With the better light, she immediately recognized the blanket from her childhood. It was a blanket given to her "sister" from her adoptive parents for Christmas one year. After moving out and graduating from college, she has had no contact with adoptive family. As she unwrapped the blanket, a distressing sight was unveiled.

"Oh, you poor child, no wonder they didn't want you," Marie whispered, eliciting a coo from the unnamed child. Though her "parents" adopted her officially, they never loved her like their own children. In fact, it had often felt like she was a burden to them. She was an orphan, but distantly related through marriage or something like that. She was very young when the accident happened that took her parents' lives and very nearly her own. She will always remember the sounds of the accident—the screaming tires, the glass shattering, and the crunching metal—as well as the pain of that night and the image of the drunk driver walking away of his own volition with nary a scratch upon his exposed skin. A piece of broken glass had become lodged diagonally across her throat, barely missing her major blood vessels and broke her right clavicle. She survived, but with a large scar that stretched from her jaw line to her breast.

However she might have looked, the poor unnamed baby was much, much worse than she could ever be. Small and long limbed, he would be hideous to most. He looked emaciated and was so pale and thin-skinned that one could see the veins and bones clearly. His head was no better. In the light of the lamp, he appeared to be eyeless for his eyes were set deep in their sockets and not a ray of light gleamed back from their depths. It was as if he possessed miniature black holes, absorbing the surrounding light yet giving none back. His cheekbones and brow were all the more prominent, giving him an oddly statuesque figure. His lips were thin, almost transparent, in fact. And the poor thing had no nose to speak of! Just a gaping black hole where one might be, and almost bisected by an exposed shard of nasal bone.

Growing more confident by the second, she knew that she would probably be the only chance to be the one to give him a chance at a normal life if possible. "You're going to need to have a strong name for a person like you, you know. I'll call you 'Erik'. It is a strong name and means 'king' or 'ruler'. Fitting for you, I think, for you shall be great one day, little Erik Valiard, my new son," she proclaimed. And thus was an unwanted child named and given love.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mama, mama!" The little boy came rushing into the living room.

"What is it, Erik?" Marie questioned.

"Look what I drew!" Erik exclaimed.

He's only five years old, and _already_ he is precocious, she mused. He did show an almost supernatural intelligence and many talents. However, that is not what she was afraid of. She was afraid for the poor kid. For all the grace and seeming power he had, he was still brutally ugly, and that would haunt him for the remainder of his life, as there was nothing that could be done to change his unfortunate appearance. She'd tried to help him look better, but every surgeon she went to admonished her, saying that there simply wasn't enough to work with. And now he was going to need to go to school, but she was afraid of how he would be treated not only by the other children, but also the teachers and other staff at the local school. Among her closest friends from over the years was an older gentleman, who was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades. He was, mainly, a master craftsman who worked primarily with leather. He was well known and well respected by many, particularly in the crafts business and loyal customers at Renaissance fairs and craft shows. He was also a long time consultant and supplier for many theatrical and costuming shops. He even ran one of his own, right there in the same city she and her adopted son lived in. Being a long time friend of Marie's, he agreed to have her bring in her son to make the poor child a series of masks, including a lifelike mask so that unknowing and possibly uncaring people would not treat him any different because of his unfortunate physical appearance.

Marie took the piece of plain office paper in her hand. On the paper was an amazingly well crafted sketch of their dogs Lycra and Evita, both being gentle sled dog mixes, long with the Siamese like cat, Vishnu—at least for someone his age. Though still long of limb and invariably lanky, he was incredibly active and strong, and had often proved it.

The local school was already eager for him to start kindergarten, because of his incredible intelligence, but Marie wasn't sure about letting him go alone on the first day, looking as he unfortunately did. She worried there would be staring, the teasing, the bullying, and ostracizing based solely on his appearance. _Of course,_ she thought, _he probably could prove his own when it comes to being bullied around or in a fight. He is awfully strong for his size…_

"Erik! Erik! Honey, it's time to get up! It's you first day of school! You don't want to be late, do you?" Marie shouts down the hallway.

"No, mama. I'm coming," the child replied.

"Wash up and come eat breakfast, then."

Erik was already dressed, as if he had slept in those very clothes but they were not wrinkled as if he did, little Erik wandered into the kitchen. He sat nicely, awaiting the breakfast his mother had promised to make for him on that day the night before. As soon as he sat down, she placed a plate of his favorite breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, toast, and a tall glass of orange juice.

"Thank you, mama," he chirped, excited for the chance to perhaps make some friends, but most of all, to learn even more knowledge.

"Mama, why must I wear a mask? I don't have to at home…" Erik whined like the child he really was at that age, despite his intelligence.

"Because you are special, that's why. The neighbors' have lived with you as you have grown up, so they don't really care. But these people you will meet have never met you before and are not familiar with you. They would judge you simply on your looks and not your personality. Then they would not want to become your friend—ever."

"I see…" Erik nodded in agreement.

"Off you go, then!"

"Bye, mama!"

As soon as the lanky kid entered the lively room, all the kids turned and stared. Whispers ran through the room. "Who is that?" "Why does he wear a mask?" and other questions like these circulated quickly.

Suddenly afraid, little Erik Valiard shrank back into the open doorway. He was about to turn around and high tail it out of the room and then the building, when the teacher appeared behind him. She calmly put a soft, delicate hand on his admittedly boney shoulder.

"Ah, little Valiard, come on in to class with me! Don't be afraid! Most children are afraid their first day at school, so you are not alone," the teacher attempted to give some more confidence to the trembling masked boy.

Once inside the room, little Erik ran off to be alone, away from the other little boys and girls. He spent most of that day in the corner, and most of the year, self willingly away from the children. However, by the time the school's Christmas break rolled around, the deformed five year old had started to come out of his shell, so to speak.


	3. Chapter 3

It was his first day at the new high school, and also his senior year. He was not proud of what he'd done, but he still believed that he had every right to do what he did. Yes, he had knocked that jerk, Josh was his name, unconscious, but only after years of being pushed around, repeatedly humiliated, beaten, and insulted. He remembered that day clearly. Lunch period had just been started, and as usual, he had been forced to sit and eat alone—he knew it wasn't always pleasant to watch him eat…

_"Hey, corpse face," Josh had said. He absolutely hated that particular name. "Alone again, I see. No one to save you from a good beating today! Now stand up!"_

_"No," Erik whispered. One of the bully's goons grabbed the lanky teenager by his collar and jerked Erik out of his seat, which toppled the chair. The brute named Josh proceeded to pound his prone body. The first blow sent poor Erik reeling backwards and split his thin upper lip. It started to bleed, and the anorexic chic teen became enraged. He may have been bone-thin and scrawny, even with his great height, he was incredibly strong, quick, and lithe. Faster than the heavier muscled teen could react to, Erik lashed out. With one solid punch he managed to break the outrageous bully's nose and send him out cold for a few minutes._

He had been lucky to only have been suspended for a week and allowed to finish the year at that school. He was lucky for a very good reason: he knew he could have been expelled or worse—he could have been charged with assault by the police!

Rather than shave off what little hair he did have (and that included his whole body), he had grown out the one or two locks of hair on his forehead down past his chin and combed it over his face in defiance of convention based on what "normal" people would say. After checking to make sure his false nose was on securely and unnoticeable in the rearview mirror of his Mercedes, he climbed out of the car and locked it securely.

"Only one more year and I _will_ be _free_," Erik mumbled a promise only he could hear. Although relatively wealthy from a lucrative contract for some of his own early compositions, he wasn't quite a fully legal adult yet. That would take a little less than two months from that day. And though the music was relatively famous and prevalent, no one knew who actually wrote or, in some cases, performed some of it, or what he looked like. Here, he was a nobody once again. He knew he had to hurry to make it to class on time, because he was unfamiliar with the layout of the school still.

Everything was going fine and relatively carefree—despite the fact that most people still could not see his yellow eyes—until it was time for choir. He had amazed the choir teacher when he tried out for his position, and at the time he was hardly even trying. He was jotting down some lyrics to a song he was in the process of composing inside his head for his public "debut" CD, when a young, blonde haired teen walked into the room. She captivated him from his first glance. His stomach felt odd… Was this love? But how could she ever love a freak like him? He smiled to himself. He would mold her to his whim. How else could he get her to ever love him, as he suspected he did already, though he wasn't sure of anything yet.

"Hey, Chris!" A red headed girl shouted. So her name is "Chris", Erik noted.

Erik crossed his long legs as he carefully observed the social structure of this particular music class. He was already growing bored, and class had hardly even started yet. He believed he probably already knew much of what they were trying to teach him and his classmates at this school, and probably knew more. In fact, he believed he had probably learned much of this knowledge quite a long time ago!

Christine waved to her friend Beatrice. She was looking forward to beginning her sophomore year with her group of friends. She quickly sat next to her friend. Bea (as Beatrice preferred to be called) whispered a bit of gossip into Christine's ear and she giggled childishly.

Speaking quietly, yet loud enough to be purposefully be heard by everyone—including the new kid sitting at the far back of the room, Chris asked, "Who is that ugly freak sitting in the back?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at the black clad punk. Erik frowned. One thing he most certainly _did not like_ was to be stared or be called ugly, although he knew he was, but he disliked to be called a "freak" even more. He had high hopes for her, but they were now dashed. He was going to offer her lessons if she was any good in hopes of getting closer to her, but now he would do it to get revenge on what he knew would be coming. As a result of her none-too-subtle insult, an honest to God growl dispersed from deep within the depths of his throat.

"I do not know, but he is definitely freaky! It looks like he doesn't even have any eyes!"

"I know!" Exclaims Chris. "Doesn't that guy ever eat?"

Erik had enough of their derogatory gossip. He thought for once he could get away from that mindless, insulting drivel—gossip. "Yes, I do eat... And I would advise you to keep your mouths shut or I shall be forced to shut them for you. And trust me, it would not be very pleasant in the least," Erik growled. He proceeded to ignore the other students and examine his boney, stick-like fingers. He smirked. He knew he had won at least the first round. Whether he'd win others was still to be seen. He knew he could use his voice to hypnotize that social butterfly into thinking she loved him, although he would be setting her up for a fall. Yes, he _could_ do that. Might be a bit of a challenge for him for once. _This year will be so fun,_ Erik thought.

"All right, class, let's do some warm-ups," the pinch faced lady called out to the rowdy class.

Erik walked up to the short, waifish blonde. _Time to put his plan into effect_, he thought. With a single boney claw, he tapped the brat on her petite shoulder, causing her to scream.

"Miss, I overheard you singing in class today."

"Yeah, so? What do you want, _freak_?" She returned. Erik winced. She looked like she did not want to be seen in his vicinity _ever_. Very well. He wouldn't stay very long either.

"Firstly, I am _not_ what you call a freak. I may have some issues, but I am not stupid. But you, you have no excuse. But I will ignore your ignorance because of what I heard in class. You have a lot of potential. If you'd like, I could become your vocal coach. But you would have to agree beforehand, and you cannot name me specifically."

"I do not know…" She sighed.

"If you are worried about being seen with me, I can tutor you in private. Nobody has to know," he suggested.

"If I agreed…"

"Yes?" Erik was eager for her to accept his offer—it would make his plan to make her his girl, and get her to love him.

"Where would you tutor me, then?"

Erik thought about it for a minute. He couldn't possibly tutor her in the school--it was too public. Then again, he couldn't possibly tutor her in the townhouse… But then again, maybe he could. After all, it did have soundproofing, unlike the apartment that was in his mother's name… Yes, that would work. It would definitely be good—he could isolate her better before her social fall from grace.

"How about my place? I promise it is clean and I will not hurt you."

"All right, I accept. Where do you live?" She asked, dazzled with the prospect of being able to become the envy of the girls in choir. Erik wrote down his address and gave it to her. "You live there!? Your parents must be rich!"

Erik grinned. He knew he had her now. All he needed now was to get her alone. Then he could us his voice against her…


End file.
